


שיבה (shiva)

by facingthenorthwind (spacegandalf)



Series: Hermione Before the Beit Din [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: HPFT, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 02:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13988751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf/pseuds/facingthenorthwind
Summary: As she Obliviated them after the Quidditch World Cup back in '94, barely keeping her sobs from interrupting her spellwork, she knew this had been coming for a long time. That whatever happened, she wouldn't regret it. And she hadn't.For CrimsonQuill's New Beginnings Challenge @ HPFT





	שיבה (shiva)

**Author's Note:**

> woops, surprise sequel! tikkun hahorim = 'repair of the parents', it's a play on tikkun olam, repairing the world.  
> shiva = return, homecoming, but it also sounds the same as the week of mourning you observe when someone dies (שבעה)

When Hermione saw her parents for the first time since -- since everything, she dug her fingernails into her thigh to stop herself from running to embrace them. They had no idea who she was. They were Wendell and Monica Wilkins, Brits who had decided to move to Australia because _Winny, what's stopping us? We're adults! We can just do it!_

They were Muggles and they had never heard of the Wizarding world.

Hermione had wanted it to stay that way. They would be happier -- she had seen her mother crying, once, her father's arms around her, when she went downstairs for a glass of water late at night. She hadn't known what it was about, but the way her mother hastily tried to act like she hadn't been sad at all meant it was definitely about her. About her magic. About going to a strange boarding school in Scotland instead of the grammar school she'd got into (she'd done so well in the eleven plus exam that they had all gone for ice cream the day they found out, even though it was October and they were all bundled up in scarves and coats -- she'd had an enormous ice cream sundae with a flake sticking out of the top and she couldn't imagine being happier until Professor McGonagall had appeared at her door six months later). When she came home for the winter holidays, she tried to explain everything she had been learning but they hadn't understood and she had known, even then, that the fact that they couldn't understand was distressing to them: they were not used to not understanding things. 

As she Obliviated them after the Quidditch World Cup back in '94, barely keeping her sobs from interrupting her spellwork, she knew this had been coming for a long time. That whatever happened, she wouldn't regret it. And she hadn't.

"Wendell, Monica," said Rabbi Goldstein, stepping forward and shaking their hands. "I'm so glad you were able to join us."

They thought they were going to a Jewish Dentists conference. Hermione was half convinced no such thing existed, but it had worked, so she couldn't fault Rabbi Hassan for coming up with it. She stood by Hermione's side now, not close enough to feel threatening but just enough that Hermione knew she couldn't run. She had broken the law. She had a halachic obligation, a moral obligation, to repair what she had done. _Tikkun hahorim._

She had assumed there was no way to get her parents back, but Obliviation couldn't stand up to three very determined rabbis, so she found herself brewing potions and practising spells that felt strange on her tongue in preparation for...this moment. The one she was stuck in right now. Even now, as they looked around and didn't see a single other dentist, Wendell and Monica were still smiling -- they couldn't _conceive_ of anything terrible happening to them, didn't have any idea how everyone in the room could kill them with a word or torture them or wipe away the identity they had constructed for themselves on top of the framework Hermione had created in their brains.

Did they have a child, back in Australia? Did they have a dog, perhaps? Would they remember, if this worked? So many things were unknown.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins were handed mugs of tea laced with a potion it had taken three months to brew. They exchanged a look after their first sip, but clearly decided it was rude to refuse to drink the tea they'd been given, so they kept going. Throughout their drink, Rabbi Goldstein made small talk about their work, the fake conference, asked if they knew various Australian Jews. When Rabbi Goldstein discovered they had a friend in common, he lit up, delighted, even though this was all _fake_ , it was all false and they were just waiting for--

The purple tinge came over their faces a few minutes after they had finished their tea and Hermione took out her wand, her hand shaking. There was no point in being circumspect about it -- either they would remember everything or they'd have to be Obliviated again before they could leave the premises.

All the research had been clear that she must be the one to do this: only she, as the caster of the spell, could reverse it. Rabbi Hassan was casting a charm to keep them calm, but she was painfully aware that their entire identities, their personhood relied on her and her alone.

When she had finished the casting, the purple tinge disappeared from their skin, and she held her breath as she waited for something to happen. She had her eyes closed because she couldn't bear to see the horror dawn on their faces as they realised what she had done. At least this time, five years older and wiser and on the other side of a war, she wasn't crying.

"Hermione?"

It was the first time she'd heard her name from her mother for five years. When she opened her eyes, her parents were smiling.


End file.
